


Thanks for the Memories

by widowshulk



Series: Age of Ultron Countdown [18]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4069501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/widowshulk/pseuds/widowshulk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of Age of Ultron, Natasha says goodbye to Bruce and the Hulk, not knowing if she'll ever see either of them again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanks for the Memories

**Author's Note:**

> As part of a countdown leading up to Age of Ultron, I wrote 18 short fics, from prompts, over 18 days.
> 
> Day Eighteen. Based on the prompt "Thanks for the memories + Things you said at the kitchen table"

Natasha sat at the table in Clint’s kitchen and tried her hardest not to cry. She had made her choice, she had chosen her duty to the greater good, and nothing could change that now. The promises she had made in this house had all been broken and it hurt her physically. Knowing what she had done, knowing that the choices she had made may have led to the death of the person closest to her. She took another drink, trying not to think about it. Needing to be able to think about something else, _anything else_.

The last time she and Bruce had been in this house, she’d told him things about her that she had never intended on telling anyone and he hadn’t looked at her with horror. He had almost been in awe of everything that she had suffered through and then conquered. She’d shared herself with him. The first person in a long time. He’d almost allowed himself to kiss her then, but he’d pulled away at the very last second. Old habits die hard.

She took another drink. She needed the memories to fade away. She’d done it before and it had saved her. That’s all she needed to do now. Forget.

The nights they’d spent talking and watching bad TV, the nights that she smiled more than ever, she needed to not remember those. Falling asleep on his shoulder, and him falling asleep on hers. She needed to forget it all.

She tried pushing everything into a box, like she’d done before, but the memories wouldn’t go away. They kept flashing through her mind. The battles she’d fought with Hulk, the flirting with Bruce. The first time she ever met Bruce, bringing him into the fold.

She sobbed, she couldn’t help it. She had been the one to bring him into all of this. She had brought him to Fury, she had made him an Avenger. If the pain of losing him didn’t kill her, the guilt certainly would.

The last time she saw him, she’d lied to him. Betrayed him. Forced him into battle. Forced him to become the monster he had desperately wanted to leave behind.

The world was better now, she tried to convince herself. Hulk had saved them, not for the first time. He had ensured Ultron’s defeat. They’d probably all be dead now if she hadn’t forced him to change.

She took another drink and noticed that the bottle was empty. She looked around the kitchen, trying to figure out where Clint would keep the hard stuff. It didn’t take her long before she’d found another bottle. She took a swig.

She had helped to save the world. She was a ‘hero’, whatever that even meant. They’d thanked her for it, hoping it would dull her pain. It hadn’t.

Maybe she needed to say goodbye. Maybe saying goodbye to him would give her closure. She poured a drink, and raised her glass.

“To Bruce. One of the few good and noble men left. To Hulk, who saved the world and fought to the last moment. To the both of them. Thank you for the memories,” she said to the empty room, and downed her drink.

It hadn’t helped. The pain was still gnawing at her from the inside. The alcohol was starting to help, though. She could feel it passing through her body, slowly numbing every inch of her. She kept drinking, hoping to speed up the numbing process.

The tears were flowing freely down her face now, but she had lost the ability to care. What did it matter if she was vulnerable now? She could pull herself back together tomorrow. For today, she needed to mourn. Mourn the man and the monster, mourn the lost love that will never be.


End file.
